


Patria Potestas: Changing Tides

by JBankai89



Series: Patria Potestas [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Sex, Dramatic Sirius, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mixed Signals, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12227928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: One year into their marriage, and overall Sirius and Harry have settled into a comfortable routine. When Sirius's birthday rolls around and Harry offers up nothing to mark the occasion, Sirius can't help but feel upset at the brushoff. What he doesn't realize however is that his husbanddoeshave something planned, and it will be more than anything Sirius could have ever hoped for.





	Patria Potestas: Changing Tides

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: SURPRISE ONESHOT! I am pleased to say that I am working on this series again, and part two, Bloodlines, is in the works. It is still slow-going, and so I will say tentatively that I am hoping to start posting it in early December, after I have finished with my Lunaticus series and NaNoWriMo and midterms. However, please do not hold your breath on it, I still can't make any promises because of how screwy my mental illness has been lately, but I'm hopeful. I assume some of you would prefer getting Bloodlines over a oneshot, but hopefully this will tide you guys over until that's ready to go. Thank you so much for your patience and support throughout all this.
> 
>  
> 
> **Please make sure you read _Patria Potestas: Blood Ties_ , and _Patria Potestas: Entr'acte_ first, otherwise this piece won't make tons of sense.**

Patria Potestas: Changing Tides

 

**1 st November, 2006**

 

Sirius woke first that morning, but then he always woke first in the mornings—that was nothing new.

He tried to keep from fidgeting, as he knew how light a sleeper Harry was. This was made more difficult by the fact that the young man had all but draped himself over Sirius like he was some sort of living pillow.

Even after a year of marriage, Sirius could not help but remark at how starkly different their choices of nightclothes were, and how little it had altered in the time that they had been married. He felt that in many ways, it mirrored their feelings on the marriage on the whole quite well—Harry was covered top to bottom in a long-sleeved button-down pyjama top and bottoms, while Sirius was dressed in nothing at all.

Sirius brought a hand to Harry's hair and stroked the unruly locks as lightly as he dared while he gazed upon his sleeping form.

 

_Maybe I was foolish to think that he'd warm up to me so soon..._

 

The sudden thought was more than a little depressing—and not entirely true, either. Because Harry _had_ warmed up to him—just not as much as Sirius would have liked.

Harry let out a tiny sigh, and slid off Sirius's chest to nuzzle into the crease between his arm and ribs like a sleepy cat. Sirius's breath caught. _Did Harry even_ know _what he was doing?_

Very carefully, Sirius extricated himself from Harry's clutches and slid from the bed. He tugged on a pair of pyjama bottoms and threw on his dressing gown, then slipped out to have a quick wash.

 

Under the scalding shower spray, he relived the last nineteen months of his life in quick succession, and it did little beyond make him feel even more depressed than he had been before. Newlyweds were supposed to be _happy_ , but he felt as though he couldn't get past his absolute misery.

Sirius reached for the hair potion, and massaged the sweet-smelling concoction into his hair. It was now approaching his mid-back, given that it had been a while since he'd found the time to trim it. Still sleek and well maintained, the dark locks were blemished only by tiny flecks of grey, but a quick colour-changing spell helped to mask that unfortunate turn of events nicely.

Sirius tried not to think as he washed, as that only led to the crushing weight of rejection he felt at the hands of his young husband, and the difficult task of holding it all in. If he spoke on it, he knew it would come out like he was trying to guilt Harry into something he simply wasn't ready for, and that was the _last_ thing that he wanted to do.

 

_Harry, I wish you could love me._

 

Sirius exited the shower as the thought floated to the surface of his mind, and dried himself off using both his wand and a towel. He then pulled back his hair into an awkward braid, and pulled back on his pyjamas before he headed out to the kitchen.

It seemed as though Harry was already up, if the smell of bacon and eggs on the air was any indication. When he stepped into the open-concept dining room, he could see a modest spread of toast, eggs, and bacon, along with a pot of tea, pat of butter, and marmalade.

As if on cue, Harry stepped out of the kitchen, bowls of cream and sugar in his hands, and he smiled when he saw Sirius. Sirius felt his heartbeat speed up, and he did his best to hide his childlike giddiness behind a neutral mask.

“Morning,” Harry said with a small, shy smile as Sirius swept in for a small kiss, one which Harry readily returned.

“Morning,” Sirius replied, “looks good.”

“Thanks, I try,” he said, and moved to sit down.

“Small mercy that at least one of us can cook,” he added, and Harry laughed as he began to serve himself.

“Yeah, I don't fancy starving to death,” Harry teased as the pair began to eat, and Sirius barked a short laugh. “You going to the shop today?”

“Hmm,” Sirius nodded, and chased down his mouthful of egg with tea before he answered. “I have a few bikes that need looking at, and one old muggle bike that Arthur wants help with, he wants to add a flying feature to it.”

“I imagine if you're the one to add that feature, it'll be less likely to crash into a Whomping Willow,” Harry replied with a small, amused smile, which widened when Sirius snorted.

“Yes, I have a little more experience with this sort of thing than Arthur does, and as you know...I'm quite good with my hands.”

The remark had the expected reaction, and Harry flushed a faint pink, but he seemed to not know how to react to it beyond that, and muttered some remark about leaving the kettle on the cooker, and bustled back into the kitchen.

Sirius watched him go, and his shoulders sagged with disappointment, while he mentally kicked himself for making such a stupid comment.

So much for progress.

 

~*~

 

Sirius spent the day with his head in the clouds, so much so that he sent an owl to Arthur, asking that they reschedule. Instead, spent his day in his shop, _Black Bikes,_ tinkering with some of his experimental models, and deliberately leaving the sign to _Closed_. Today Sirius had no desire to talk to anyone; he needed to think.

He was still at a loss for how to get Harry to open up to him more, and with another of their _scheduled shags_ on the horizon, the prospect made Sirius feel even more depressed than usual. Their encounters were never unpleasant, and Harry was always very receptive to his _advances_ , but afterwards he would revert back to something of a blushing bride, and shuffle away from Sirius, his face red, as though mortified that he'd drawn pleasure from the encounter.

Sirius wanted Harry to want him, but he had no idea how to help him get there.

 _Assuming he even_ can _,_ Sirius thought sullenly as he manually changed the tyres on an old muggle Yamaha. _He always said it's hard since I was his last parental figure, maybe he just can't love me that way, ever._

And wasn't _that_ a depressing thought.

 

Sirius did his level best to _not_ think about Harry for the remainder of the day, but he found it next to impossible—his young husband plagued his every thought, and _everything_ reminded him of Harry. It left him feeling even more miserable than he'd felt that morning as he Apparated home.

 

He was greeted at the door by the smell of steak and kidney pie and steamed veg, and from his position, he could see a bottle of red wine on the table, uncorked to breathe while Harry puttered over the cooker, his expression pensive. When Sirius appeared in the narrow doorway, it seemed to jolt Harry from his thoughts, and he smiled up at Sirius meekly.

“Welcome home,” Harry said, and flushed a faint pink when Sirius closed the distance between them and offered Harry a light kiss.

“Thanks,” he replied as he took a step back, and shrugged out of his jacket. “Smells good in here.”

“Thanks,” Harry parroted, but despite the weak smile he bore, Sirius couldn't help but feel as though something was wrong. His brow furrowed as he gazed at Harry, and he flushed under Sirius's calculating stare.

“Everything all right?” Sirius asked, “you look stressed...well, more stressed than usual, anyway.”

“It's fine,” Harry replied quickly— _too_ quickly, Sirius noted.

“...are you _sure_?”

“Yeah.” His voice momentarily jumped to a higher octave, and Sirius arched a questioning brow at him. Harry didn't respond to the look, and instead began to transfer the food to serving platters and carried them out one by one into the dining room. “Go wash up, everything's ready.”

Sirius couldn't help but smile at the command, and went to the task without complaint. There was something so strangely endearing about it. Contrary to Harry's very active adolescence and initial Auror plans, he seemed to genuinely enjoy this _househusband_ routine—though Sirius did make a genuine effort to divvy up the chores as evenly as possible. He hated the idea of lobbing all the household chores onto Harry; it didn't seem fair, and they'd agreed to share everything, after all.

Except for cooking detail, which Harry had insisted he take full responsibility for. However, Sirius suspected that this was less out of the goodness of his heart, and had more to do with his own self-preservation instincts. After all, Sirius's track record with the Culinary Arts—when he'd managed to _not_ set the kitchen ablaze—were generally not very palatable.

Sirius returned to the table with a little less motor oil on his hands, and offered Harry a small smile as he took in the sight of the little personal-sized pies on their plates, paired with mash and peas.

“Looks good,” he offered, and Harry's smile widened a little.

“Thanks,” he replied, “I hope you like it.”

“It's probably ten times better than what I could do, so I'm sure it'll be amazing.”

The compliment had the desired effect, and Sirius swallowed a grin as Harry flushed a deep crimson. He pulled his plate forward and broke the pastry open, releasing a plume of steam, while Sirius went about pouring them each a glass of wine.

“Kept yourself busy today?” Sirius asked conversationally, and Harry nodded his head.

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he nodded his head, “worked on my writing project a bit, visited with Hermione and her Whoops Baby...and I started doing the preserves with the veg that won't make it through the winter.”

“I thought Hermione threatened to hex you if you kept calling Rose her Whoops Baby?” Sirius asked as he arched a brow at Harry, and the young man smirked a little.

“Yeah, well, she forgot that my Shield Charms are really good,” Harry replied, a grin twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, Ron calls her that too, and it's not like it's untrue...she _was_ an accident.”

“All right, well, it's your funeral when she _does_ finally hex you for it...” Sirius said as he sipped his wine, and Harry halfheartedly kicked him under the table.

“By the way,” Harry said conversationally, and grinned at him again, “what do you want to do for your birthday? Forty-six, imagine, in a couple years you'll be fif—”

“—finish that sentence and you will regret it, Mr Potter-Black,” Sirius interrupted, “I'd rather _not_ be reminded of my age, thank you.” Harry closed his mouth, but continued to grin at the older man, his lips pressed together so hard they had turned white, as though he was trying very hard to not laugh at Sirius's expense. They began to eat, and by the time Sirius recalled that Harry had actually asked him what he wanted for his birthday, Sirius had finished half his pie and two glasses of wine, and was feeling pleasantly warm.

“As to the commemoration of the day when the world was graced with my presence—” he began, and Harry snorted, but Sirius ignored him as he continued, “—nothing big, really. I'd rather it just be the two of us.”

“It's _always_ the two of us, you realize,” Harry pointed out, and Sirius shrugged.

“Something wrong with that? I _like_ spending time with you, Harry.”

This time Sirius hadn't intended any innuendo by the words, but he still succeeded in making the young man turn bright red. Harry prodded at his food, and it was nearly a full minute before he finally spoke again.

“It's not wrong or anything; I just worry, that's all,” Harry explained. “You hardly spend any time with your friends, and I just—” Harry cut himself off abruptly, and he blanched. The reaction was not without just cause, Sirius could feel his blank expression crumbling at the mention of the word, _friends._

“Fuck,” Harry said at once, and grimaced as he offered the older man an apologetic look. “Sirius, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—I just meant like, Kingsley, or Arthur, or something. I just worry that you're cutting yourself off, that's all.”

“I know, Harry,” Sirius replied stiffly, but kept his eyes on his wineglass. With the flood of images and memories of James and Remus overwhelming his mind, looking at his husband right now was not a good idea—there was every chance he'd bite his head off for no reason, and Harry did not deserve that.

“Sirius?” Harry's voice sounded very small and feeble, but Sirius could not find it in himself to offer him any sort of comfort at the moment.

 

_I need to get out of here and calm down before I say something I know that I'll regret._

 

His appetite completely gone, Sirius stood abruptly. and headed for the door, snatching up his leather jacket on the way, and jamming his feet into his boots.

“Sirius, wait!” Harry called, but Sirius would not— _could not—_ look back at him. “Where are you going?”

“For a smoke.”

Without another word, Sirius slipped out of the front door and Disapparated with a sharp _crack._

 

~*~

 

Sirius made it to Diagon Alley without incident, changed a few galleons at Gringotts for ten quid, and got his smokes from a little muggle tobacconist down the road instead of the wizarding variety in the Alley. He was in need of simple nicotine, nothing more than that.

He hadn't smoked in over twenty years, but after igniting the fag with a surreptitious nudge of his wand, Sirius was quickly transported back to his heydays as a young and (mostly) carefree teenager. Smoke curled around his head as he exhaled, and as the fag helped to calm him down, he began to feel a niggling guilt settle in his mind for his abrupt and dramatic exit.

 _I'll have some explaining to do when I get home..._ Sirius thought miserably as he took another drag, and for the first time in a very long time, he dreaded the thought of going home.

“Hey, gorgeous, woss your story?” a sudden voice said, snapping Sirius out of his thoughts, and he turned to see a scantily clad young woman smiling at him. She was a pretty blonde thing, with curves in all the right places, but lacked a certain masculine aspect that would have caused Sirius to turn his head.

“No thanks, love,” he replied with an apologetic smile, “you'll have to try your luck elsewhere.”

Appearing distinctly put-out she sulked off, and Sirius watched her go silently.

 _At least someone finds me attractive,_ he thought, though the words did little to buoy his spirit. He wanted _Harry_ to show some interest in him beyond simple affection, and at times it was infuriating having to wait for him to be ready.

Sirius dropped the cigarette stub and crushed it under his heel, then with another heavy sigh, he shook the pack and withdrew a second one.

 

~*~

 

Harry did not say a word when Sirius stepped inside a few hours later.

He was perched on the sofa, a cup of tea cradled in his hands, and his eyes were narrowed in a glare at the older man as he crossed the door's threshold, and shut it behind him.

“I'm back,” Sirius announced, and Harry's frown deepened.

“I noticed,” Harry replied coldly, “I used my super-advanced wizard eyeballs to watch you walk in the door.” He slammed his teacup down on the coffee table, and some of the beverage sloshed out the sides of the cup. “What the _fuck_ was that about?”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Sirius mumbled, his eyes on his feet. “It's hard sometimes, it's been so long without James or R-Remus,” his voice caught on the second name, and he swallowed once before he continued. “but they were my best friends, and when you suggested I see my friends...I kind of...”

“...kind of freaked?” Harry supplied for him, though his voice was much closer this time. Sirius glanced up, and saw that Harry had abandoned the sofa, and he was now standing before Sirius, while he smiled weakly at the older man. Sirius frowned and nodded.

“I'm sorry,” he said again, “I really am.”

Harry did not say a word as he stepped forward and helped Sirius out of his jacket and boots, then led him by the hand over to the sofa, where he forced him to sit down. 

Sirius watched as Harry stepped into the kitchen and returned with Sirius's favourite black mug filled to the brim with untarnished tea in his favourite stainless steel tea strainer, the little chain with the little dog-shaped charm twisted around the handle. Just how he liked it.

Harry pressed the mug into his hands without a word, but instead of sitting down and joining him, he circled the piece of furniture, and stopped when he was at Sirius's back.

Uncertain what Harry was up to, he blew on the hot drink and took a small sip, but he nearly fell over in shock when he felt Harry's hands fall upon his shoulders and squeeze gently.

“You've spent the last year practically tip-toeing around me,” Harry murmured in a soft tone, his breath tickling across the back of Sirius's neck as his hands rubbed at the older man's tense shoulders, and Sirius nearly moaned out loud at the sensation.

“I—I have,” Sirius confirmed, his voice soft and his words almost slurred, lost in the sensation of Harry's hands on him. It felt so _good_. Did Harry even know what this was _doing_ to him?

“You've been totally amazing,” Harry continued, and Sirius's breath hitched when his husband's slightly clammy hands slipped under the collar of his shirt and began to rub at the bare skin of his tense shoulders. “Maybe _too_ amazing?”

“ _Too_ amazing?” Sirius repeated, his mind still fogged up from the overwhelming sensation of Harry touching him like this— _of his own free will,_ and not because he had to, like during one of their _encounters_. It felt incredible, but Sirius was still a little at sea as to what this was about. He'd come home anticipating an argument, not a massage, and it left him feeling a little thrown.

Quickly, Sirius moved his tea mug to the table before he lost all of his basic motor functions and dropped the hot beverage all over himself.

“You we never this gentle or this... _tightly wound_ when I first properly met you,” Harry explained, “and since this _Potestas_ thing started, you've been just _so_ careful, and so amazingly patient with me. Maybe it's gotten to be a little much for you? I mean, I'm not stupid, I know that this has been hard on you, and I _know_ how you feel about me, but instead of pushing, you've taken a step back, and never made me feel crowded or pressured, or anything. Maybe your outburst was partially my fault, for not being able to... _you know_ , get past our old relationship and move forward, and partially your fault—instead of being honest and telling me that you were feeling frustrated, you just...treated me like a cornered hippogriff or something. I'll admit, it's still hard for me, but...I'm not gonna bite your head off if you need to let off steam or vent or something. Just...you know, talk to me. I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that communication is a thing that married people are supposed to do.”

“I'm sorry, Harry,” Sirius mumbled, “I just...I don't want you to feel pushed...” he trailed off as Harry's hands stilled on his shoulders, and he shivered again when he suddenly felt Harry's breath ghost across the back of his neck.

“If I feel like I'm being pushed towards something you _know_ I don't want to do, what do I usually do?” Harry asked softly, in a tone Sirius could only describe as _sultry._

“You...you tell me to stop,” Sirius replied, and bit back a moan as he heard Harry chuckle behind him, and once again his breath tickled across Sirius's skin.

“Exactly. Goodnight.”

Without another word, Harry abruptly let go of Sirius, straightened up, and sauntered towards their bedroom, his hips swaying a little more than usual as he walked.

Harry paused in the doorway that led to the other rooms in the little house, and turned back to smile at Sirius once, then disappeared.

Sirius stared at the spot that Harry had occupied not thirty seconds before, and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.

Something in Harry had changed. Something _big._

Problem was, Sirius hadn't the faintest idea _what_.

 

**3 rd November, 2006**

 

Sirius woke on the morning of his birthday to the wonderful smell of Harry's cooking permeating through the house. He'd almost rather to have woken with his husband in his arms, but well-cooked food came in a close second.

Sirius slipped from bed to throw on some pyjamas and his dressing gown before he made his way to the dining room. Upon his arrival, he found the table already leaden with a traditional English breakfast—tea, toast, eggs, sausage, bacon, baked beans, and fried tomatoes.

Harry bustled from the kitchen at almost the same moment, a handful of cutlery in his fists, and a pair of teacups following him out of the small space. He staggered to a stop when he caught sight of Sirius, and his cheeks flushed with colour, though Sirius hadn't the foggiest idea what he'd done (yet) to cause such a reaction.

Harry hastily dropped the cutlery and cups onto the table, then moved over to his husband with a shy smile upon his face.

“Happy Birthday,” Harry said, his voice strangely breathless, and he leant in to kiss Sirius soundly on the mouth.

Sirius staggered back a little in surprise from the force of the kiss, but when Harry stepped forward to draw it out, Sirius took immediate advantage of the situation.

His hands dropped to Harry's waist as he kissed him back, and the younger man let out a strange, strangled gasp as Sirius drew Harry's bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it gently.

“Si-Sirius,” Harry panted shakily, and he pressed his palms gently to the older man's chest.

Recognizing that the moment was over, Sirius reluctantly pulled back, and offered Harry small smile as they turned back to the breakfast spread. He did not miss how flushed Harry seemed to be by the kiss, but decided to not comment on it—he could do without a knife in his heart today.

“So, what's on the roster for today?” Sirius asked lightly as he sat down and began to serve himself, to which Harry flushed a deep pink again, and glanced down at his plate.

“You'll see...” he replied cryptically, but did not glance over to Sirius, instead chose to hide behind his teacup.

 

~*~

 

As far as birthdays went, it wasn't the most exciting one Sirius could remember ever having. In fact, it bordered on completely and utterly _dull_.

A few cards and gifts from former order members, a tin of fudge from Molly, a muggle philosophy book from Hermione called _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_ , a handmade card from Teddy, and a fifth of firewhisky from Andromeda, but absolutely _nothing_ from Harry.

His young husband had spent most of his time hiding away in the kitchen or in the gardens, and any time he tried to wander in and help, Harry quickly shunted him out again, insisting that he relax.

Sirius hated the small twinge of disappointment he felt at the lack of _anything_ from Harry. He didn't want to be selfish, not like this, anyway, but he did feel a niggling sense of loss at the lack of attention Harry was bestowing on him that day—save for their morning kiss.

Growing tired of his loneliness, Sirius wandered out and Apparated to Andromeda's house. Teddy was in the front garden playing in a pile of leaves, and he instantly lit up when he spotted Sirius.

“Uncle Sirius!” the seven-year-old chirped happily as he waved at him. “Happy Birfday! Gran's inside, d'you wanna see her?”

“Thanks, Teddy,” Sirius replied with a small chuckle. “Yeah, that'd be great.”

He got up from his leaf pile, patted at his jacket as though to dust himself off (though it didn't really help all that much) and toddled towards the front door with Sirius following close behind.

“Graaaaaaan!” Teddy called the moment he crossed the threshold, “Uncle Sirius is here, he looks like he could use your grownup juice, 'cos he's sad!”

“ _Grownup juice?_ ” Sirius asked his cousin when she made an appearance, and she laughed a little at the words.

“He means my nightly glass of wine,” she explained, “I told him _once_ it was for adults, and it cheered them up if they were tired or feeling sad, and ever since then it's been _grownup juice for sad people._ Speaking of, for the birthday boy, you look downright miserable. Did you and Harry get into another argument?”

“Not exactly,” Sirius grimaced as he spoke, and Andromeda raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “He's been acting weird all day, and I needed a little break from it.”

“Come along then, I'll fix us a drink, and you can tell me all about it.”

Sirius obediently followed Andromeda to the kitchen, where she immediately went for her liquor cabinet (well stocked, after Sirius began to come by more regularly) and unlocked it before she poured them each a scotch, which they transported to the sitting room.

To put off answering, Sirius sipped his drink, and found himself moderately surprised that it was the muggle stuff, and not a wizarding brand of scotch, though still a very good one.

“Out with it, Sirius,” Andromeda said firmly when he took too long to explain himself, but at the same moment Teddy toddled into the room with his plush wolf, _Moony_.

“Will you make Moony dance, Uncle Sirius?” Teddy asked as he clambered into Sirius's lap, and immediately Sirius set down his glass in order to grab onto the boy and keep him from falling.

“Maybe later, Ted, your Gran and I need to have a grownup talk first,” Sirius said gently, and Teddy let out an audible groan.

“Are you in trouble again, Uncle Sirius? You're _always_ in trouble.”

“I am not _always in trouble!_ ” Sirius protested before he could think better of it, while Andromeda suddenly began to cough very falsely to cover up her laughter.

“Are too!” Teddy piped up, “Aunt Hermione called it Mouth on Foot Disease, or something. She said it means you say stupid things that makes Uncle Harry mad at you.”

“Well, to be fair she's not _that_ far off the mark...” Andromeda quipped, and Sirius glared at her. “Go on, Ted, your uncle and I do need to have a grownup talk, then he can play with you after.”

“Okay...” Teddy said with a dramatic sigh, and he slid out of Sirius's lap, his bottom lip poked out in an exaggerated pout.

The two adults watched Teddy shuffle from the room, and the moment he'd gone Andromeda flicked her wand to set up a silencing charm.

“Now, what is this all about?” Andromeda asked, “of all the days for a surprise visit, I hardly expected to see you today. I'd thought you would want to spend the day with Harry.”

“That was the idea,” Sirius replied, his glum mood returning in full as he was reminded of the reason he was here in the first place. “I wanted to spend the day with Harry, but he's been avoiding me all day, and I honestly have no idea what I could have done this time. I've given him space, and every time I tried to go see him today, he would just...shoo me away and tell me to go relax.”

“Are you certain he doesn't just want you to actually relax?” Andromeda asked as she arched a brow at him. “It _is_ your birthday, after all, he probably just doesn't want you overexerting yourself in your advanced age.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Sirius replied sarcastically, and she offered him a wry smile. “I don't know, maybe I _am_ looking too much into it, but when one receives no birthday gift from their husband, then is ignored by him for a good portion of the day, it makes it hard to feel anything but a little put-out, you know?”

“I really do think you're reading too much into it,” Andromeda said gently, and reached over to pat the top of his hand. “You two...you have your friction, but overall the last year has been good to the both of you, yes?” Sirius nodded. “Chances are, he just has something planned for you this evening, and he doesn't want you spotting what he's up to.”

“I suppose...I must sound like such a spoiled brat right now,” Sirius added as he downed the rest of the drink and stood up. “Thanks. Mind if I spend a little time with Teddy before I go?”

“Take all the time you need,” she replied with a nod, and waved him off, “just don't be too long, I have a feeling Harry will be a touch upset if you're late for dinner.”

Sirius waved her off, and headed down the hall towards little Teddy's bedroom.

 

~*~

 

Sirius spent a few hours in Teddy's company, making his stuffed animals dance, and transfiguring his toy dragons into miniature _real_ dragons (which he stopped doing after Andromeda came in to check on them and saw how the miniature dragons had turned Teddy's carpet into something resembling swiss cheese) and went outside to run with the little boy as Padfoot.

The time with Teddy had done wonders for burning off the remainder of his sour mood, and when he arrived home for supper, Harry still appeared strained and slightly nervous, but he no longer seemed to be actively avoiding him.

“Sirius!” Harry cried the moment he'd walked in the door, and hurried over to him with a small, shy smile on his face, and arched up to kiss him lightly. “Great timing, dinner's almost ready. Go wash up, and I'll bring the stuff to the dining room.”

“Yes, dear,” he teased, and paused to kiss Harry once more before he headed for the bathroom, and did his best to swallow his smile of amusement at Harry's bashful reaction to the pet name.

 

Dinner was simple enough, if a bit fancier than their usual fare—roasted duck and vegetables with good red wine, rounded off with an elegant chocolate cheesecake.

And still, Harry offered up no sort of gift to mark the occasion.

Sirius still hated that it bothered him so much—didn't even have to be anything expensive, a pebble off the beach, a toothpick, a dog turd— _something_ that showed that Harry cared.

It stung more than Sirius wanted to admit, and not long after pudding, Sirius mumbled something about making it an early night, and hurried off to bed.

 

The moment he made it into their bedroom, Sirius stripped out of his clothes. He kicked everything off and nudged it halfheartedly towards the hamper, and as he did so, the pack of fags slipped out of his pocket and fell to the floor.

Sirius stared at the little box for a long moment, and quite suddenly, he _really_ wanted a smoke. At the same time however, he had absolutely no desire to put his clothes back on. He was completely worn out by his shite birthday, and just wanted to rest.

“Harry probably won't like this, but I don't even care,” Sirius muttered to himself as he scooped up the pack along with his wand, and flopped down heavily on the top of the duvet, hard enough that the mattress's bed springs creaked in protest from the action.

Sirius bent one of his legs at the knee, his foot planted firmly on the blanket, while the other was stretched out naturally. It was a comfortable position, and as he lay there, he could smell the pine cleaner Harry used liberal amounts of all over the house, the woodsmoke scent from the fireplace, and he could hear all the soft little forest sounds that filtered in from outside. For the first time all day, he felt properly relaxed and peaceful.

Smiling to himself, Sirius shook a cigarette from the pack, perched it between his lips, and ignited it with a quick nudge from his wand.

Sirius inhaled, smoke curling around him as it drifted towards the ceiling in slow, lazy wisps of grey. The nicotine succeeded in calming him down in a way that his conversation with Andromeda hadn't, and he found himself moderately grateful that he'd had his hissy fit two days prior, otherwise it was likely he would never have wandered out for a pack of fags.

By the time Harry made an appearance, Sirius had finished half of his cigarette, and his attention was drawn out of his meditative state by the soft creak of the bedroom door.

Sirius glanced away from the ceiling towards the source of the noise. He raised his eyebrows in surprise at what he saw there, and he blinked his eyes several times—hard—to ensure that he wasn't seeing things.

When the vision did not change, Sirius had to assume it was real.

Harry stood there, his cheeks ruddy, and his arms crossed across his chest. He wore his usual dressing gown, which was nothing new, but what _was_ new was the line of bare flesh that he could see beneath it. Prior to this, Harry had always gone to bed in practically three layers, even in the height of summer. To see him in less than that was both strange and deeply alluring.

“At least open a window if you're going to smoke in here,” Harry said, and flicked his wand. The window snapped open, and the icy autumn breeze stung Sirius's exposed skin.

He shivered as he pinched the end of the cigarette, extinguishing it, and he tucked the remainder back into the pack. He used his wand to disperse the smell and shut the window, then used one final charm to freshen his breath before he turned back to look at Harry.

“Sorry,” he said, “don't usually, but after today I sort of needed it.”

Harry bowed his head a little in understanding. When he looked back up, there was a blazing, determined look in his eyes, and he crossed over to the bed in a rush to sit down next to his husband.

Harry was so close that Sirius could feel his body heat and smell the tea on his breath, and through the lenses of his glasses, he could see that his pupils were blown wide, and irises drowned in white—his eyes were almost bulging with fear, though Sirius had no idea why Harry looked so afraid. Before he could ask however, Harry launched into an apology.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said softly, and reached out to touch Sirius's bare thigh, which made the muscle twitch. “If I gave you the wrong idea, I mean. I wanted—I mean, I _do_ have a birthday gift for you, but...I'm nervous. I'm pretty sure you'll like it, and I _want_ to give it to you, but...” he trailed off, and much to Sirius's surprise, Harry leant in, and kissed him gently.

Never one to deny Harry, he kissed him back, reaching up to brush his fingers across his husband's cheek as he did so. Harry shifted and closed his hand over Sirius's while he continued to kiss him, and he guided the older man's hand to the ties of his dressing gown.

“Would you like to open your present?” Harry asked softly, almost innocently, and Sirius's breath stilled.

“You mean...?” Sirius asked, his voice weak, and hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Harry bit his bottom lip, and nodded a little.

“I...I can't really explain it,” he said in that same soft tone, “and I'm not sure if I should even try, but...” Harry trailed off and shifted closer to the older man. He leant in and kissed him again; Sirius nearly moaned out loud at the gentle, tentative quality of the kiss. He could taste what Harry couldn't say, something Sirius had longed for for months—Harry _wanted_ him.

“I want you,” Harry said, validating Sirius's suspicion. “Seeing you like this...it excites me, and I know how you feel about me, and...and...I wanted to give something you would want, and I want you to know that I want it too, and—” he broke off, his cheeks flushing pink as though he realized that he'd begun to ramble. He bit his lip and gazed up at Sirius, and Sirius felt as though he could weep with joy.

Sirius pulled Harry closer, effectively tugging his husband into his lap, and he smiled when Harry gasped softly, but gripped tightly to him, his face flushed for a completely different reason when Sirius kissed him again.

Sirius rested his hands on the tops of Harry's concealed thighs, and trailed them upward, revelling in the way Harry shivered and gasped around the kiss. His arms were linked around Sirius's neck, and his fingers were buried in the older man's hair. He kissed Sirius with needy want, a testament to the fact that he'd been holding out on surprising Sirius with this _all day,_ and for the first time in their year-long marriage, Harry really and truly _wanted_ him.

It was better than anything Sirius could have dared hope for.

“ _Harry_...” Sirius whispered reverently, and his hands fell to the ties of Harry's dressing gown. He heard Harry's breath still, and Sirius felt his body warm pleasantly as Harry bit his bottom lip, and dropped his gaze to Sirius's hands.

“Go on,” Harry murmured encouragingly, his face flushed with equal parts embarrassment and arousal, “open your present.”

Sirius tugged on the ties, and let out a tiny moan as the garment fell open, and Harry was completely exposed to him.

Golden skin, close to a caramel colour from how much of the summer he'd spent outside tending to their gardens, and from his countless impromptu Quidditch matches with Ron and the other Weasleys. His active summer also meant that Harry was deliciously toned, and wonderfully hard in places _other_ than his cock.

Sirius pressed a hand to Harry's abdomen and traced the shape of the muscles he found there. They twitched under his fingers, and his mouth twitched into a smile when he heard Harry gasp.

Slowly, Sirius trailed his fingers up Harry's abdomen, across his chest, and stopped only when his hand curled around the back of Harry's neck. He drew him in for a kiss, and Sirius felt his heart flutter with joy at the soft moan that escaped from his young husband when their lips met.

“Harry...” Sirius murmured breathlessly as Harry reached forward with halting, uncertain movements, and brushed his fingers across Sirius's chest awkwardly. He moved his hands to the small of Harry's back and held him while he observed the young man—his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the flush of his face—both clear arousal and nervousness. When Sirius had relaxed his touching however, curious to see what would happen if he let Harry take the lead, something happened that he did not expect.

Harry froze.

“Is something wrong, Harry?” Sirius asked immediately, and in response, Harry's flush deepened.

“Not wrong, exactly,” Harry replied awkwardly, “I just...I don't know what to do.”

“Oh, Harry,” Sirius murmured, his voice very close to a purr as he slid one hand up Harry's bare back, and stopped at the nape of his neck to coax him into another gentle kiss. “You are so adorable when you're all flustered like this.” Sirius laughed when his words were met with a scowl, and he leant in to kiss him again. “Just relax, and do what feels good. There's no rules here, we can do whatever the hell we want.”

“I know,” Harry said, his face still very pink, “it's just...I mean, I want to do this, hell, I want _you,_ and I never thought I would, but I don't want to muck this up.”

“You can't muck this up, because it's impossible for you to muck this up,” Sirius said gently, and pecked his lips in a light kiss. “Just relax, and do what comes naturally.”

Harry mumbled something to himself, softly enough that Sirius didn't catch it, and he glanced back up to Sirius, his lip caught between his teeth, and in that moment Sirius felt his heart still. Harry looked so _nervous_ , so _innocent_ , and he knew at once that despite Harry's bravery, his bravado, and everything in between, his leadership role did not extend to the bedroom. He'd had an inkling of this before, of course, but now Sirius viewed it not as a guess or hunch, but irrefutable fact.

“Come here,” Sirius murmured as he lifted a hand, rested it against Harry's cheek, and drew him into another tender kiss.

Sirius wrapped his opposite arm around Harry's waist as he kissed his young husband, and he felt the young man positively _melt_ in his arms.

“What do you want, Harry?” Sirius murmured, then kissed him again.

“You,” Harry replied in that same shy, uncertain tone of voice. The prompt answer made Sirius smile broadly.

“What _else_ do you want?” he asked gently, and kissed Harry again. “Do you want me to make love to you, worship you, like I did on our wedding night? Or do you want me to _fuck_ you, hard and fast so that you're walking funny for the next week? Or would you rather fuck _me?_ ”

The last question seemed to catch Harry off-guard, and with a soft gasp he pulled back and eyed Sirius uncertainly.

“You'd be...you'd do that?” Harry asked, his face flushing with colour as he spoke. Sirius answered with a smile, and kissed him again.

“I wouldn't be against it,” Sirius murmured against Harry's mouth, and chuckled at the look of surprise on the younger man's face as he said it. Maybe one day he'd tell Harry about his sexploits underneath a certain werewolf, but now did not seem to be the right time for _that_. Instead, he kissed Harry again, and pulled him a little closer, enabling their hard cocks to brush together lightly, causing the young man to shiver. “Tell me what you want, Harry.”

Harry flushed an attractive shade of red again, and did not immediately answer Sirius. This time, instead of filling the silence with words, Sirius reached down and closed his hand carefully around his and Harry's twin erections.

Harry hissed and tilted his head back as Sirius began to gently stroke the twin shafts. As he worked on them, he leant in and pecked a kiss to the side of Harry's exposed throat.

“Tell me what you want, Harry,” Sirius repeated, and Harry answered with a feeble moan.

“Want...I want you to _enjoy_ your birthday,” Harry said between sharp pants, “don't turn this around and become the perfect gentleman again 'cause you're worried that you'll scare me off or something. I _want_ this, Sirius, so tell me what _you_ want.”

“Hmm...” the sound escaped Sirius like a purr, and he continued to stroke their two erections idly while Harry trembled in his lap. He clenched his eyes shut, bowed his head forward, and rested it lightly against Sirius's shoulder.

“I want...” Sirius paused for effect, and smiled indulgently to himself as he listened to Harry inhale sharply when he offered their cocks a firm squeeze, “...you. I want you to lie back and let me make love to you.”

“God, you're so cheesy...” Harry muttered as he lifted his head to meet Sirius's mouth in a warm kiss.

“Yeah, I know, but you l—you love _it,_ ” Sirius replied, and Harry smiled weakly and apologetically at the emendation.

“You're not totally wrong there...” Harry said softly, and dropped his hand to cover Sirius's, and he froze his movements at once. “Come on then, birthday boy, _make love to me,_ ” he purred in a soft, sultry tone of voice. At the same time, the colour rose in his cheeks again, causing Sirius to chuckle softly. Clearly, Harry still had a way's to go before he stopped getting embarrassed at the prospect of sex with his own husband.

Sirius kissed Harry once more, then reluctantly removed his hand from their cocks as he gently turned them both until Harry was beneath him, his face still red, but his eyes shone with desire and a clear message—

He _wanted_ this.

Sirius almost thought he could sing with joy; this was by far the best gift he ever could have received.

He blanketed Harry's body with his own, and smiled inwardly at the way the young man trembled as their skin brushed together, at the way he inhaled sharply when Sirius very gently removed his glasses and set them aside, and how deliciously _receptive_ he was when Sirius leant in to finally kiss him.

Harry's hands moved to rest at the back of Sirius's neck before they slowly inched upwards to tangle in the older man's hair, and Sirius groaned at the delicious sensation of Harry's blunt fingernails raking over his scalp.

“Harry...” Sirius moaned softly, while he pawed blindly at the bedside table for the drawer, and dug out the narrow tube of lubricant. Harry didn't answer verbally, but instead parted his thighs invitingly. He groaned a little at the silent invitation, and immediately squirted out a little of the gel onto his fingers, and directed them towards Harry's arse.

Harry did not tense when Sirius's index and middle fingers pressed against him, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. He shifted, exposing himself more fully to Sirius, and let out a near-pornographic moan when the older man's fingers finally began to breach his hole.

“ _Yes_...” Harry groaned, and bore down on the fingers as they slid into him, “ _please..._ ”

Sirius covered Harry's mouth with his own in a warm kiss, and he arched into the kiss, his hands moving out of Sirius's hair as his arms locked around his neck, and Sirius grunted a little in surprise from the sheer force and passion behind the kiss.

Sirius withdrew his fingers from Harry's arse, grabbed the lube again, and slicked up his cock before he lined himself up with Harry's prepared entrance. This was made somewhat challenging, given that Harry was still snogging him _very_ enthusiastically, and thus he had to blindly feel everything out, for he had absolutely no desire to _ever_ tell Harry to stop.

“You're so amazing, Harry,” Sirius murmured between kisses, and he couldn't help but grin a little when Harry's face and neck turned an attractive pink at the praise.

Sirius did not wait for a response as he finally managed to position himself correctly and slid into Harry's hot channel. He was rewarded with another delicious groan as Harry locked his legs around the older man's waist, forcing him to push inside of Harry much more quickly than he'd intended to.

“Please,” Harry groaned, his blunted nails raking down from Sirius's shoulders and across his chest, leaving angry red marks in their wake, “more, I need _more_.”

“So demanding,” Sirius teased, “I love it.”

Harry groaned again but didn't answer, instead choosing to clench around Sirius's cock, and he shuddered at the sensation.

“Move,” Harry ordered with a small grunt, “ _please_.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Slowly, Sirius began to rock his hips, and beneath him Harry moaned, his arms flying above his head as he grabbed fistfuls of the blanket they lay upon, and his eyes screwed shut as his legs tensed around the older man.

“S-so good,” Harry stammered out, “you're so g-good at this...”

Sirius smirked indulgently but didn't answer, and instead adjusted his angle a little as he picked up his pace, their bodies now sliding together fluidly, thanks to the added lubrication of their sweat. Harry clung to him so sweetly, so deliciously, moreso when Sirius adjusted his angle again, and finally located the young man's prostate.

“Oh, oh _fuck_ ,” Harry hissed, and Sirius chuckled as he thrust in again, once more making Harry shudder and keen with pleasure.

Sirius continued to thrust into Harry at a steady, unforgiving pace, and could feel himself getting close just as Harry groaned, and came first.

He splattered their stomachs with his seed, while Sirius sought out his own release, and with an audible groan, he stiffened and painted Harry's insides white.

Sirius had enough forethought to slump to the side instead of directly on top of Harry and accidentally crush him. The moment he'd settled down and pulled out of Harry, he watched in quiet amazement as Harry did not roll over and sleep as he usually did following one of their encounters, awkward and flustered by what had occurred, but instead, he burrowed deep into Sirius's arms with a soft sigh of contentment.

“Good birthday?” Harry asked as Sirius threaded his fingers through his hair and began to stroke it.

“ _Best_ birthday,” Sirius replied. “I'm sorry I was such a princess before, assuming you had nothing planned for me. I should know you better than that by now.”

“I've sort of grown to expect overdramatic reactions with you,” Harry said teasingly, and laughed when Sirius swatted his arm. “But, seriously, I'm sorry too, maybe if I had given you a little hint, you wouldn't have spent most of the day being miserable.”

“The ending _more_ than made up for it,” Sirius replied as he leant down to kiss Harry's temple. “Don't start worrying about it. You can make it up to me over Christmas, if you like.” Harry grinned.

“You can count on it.”

 

-Fin

 


End file.
